Imaginary

The Villager

The Eastbrooke Ball.

It is one of the most prestigious balls around the world held anually by the Eastbrooke family. Men and women of higher class and education from different countries all gather to socialize and have fun through liquor and dancing. The women would chatter to people from table to table wearing their flowery headdresses and sparkly long gowns. The men would just stand by the bar at one corner and flirt on women passing by them.

Me? I am neither rich nor royalty nor a person from a prestigious institution. I am just a simple bloke who lived in the small village of Kaczka. I never even knew who my parents were but I didn't care. One day (well actually it was just last week) the Eastbrooke family paid a visit and their daughter saw me trough their carriage window. Our eyes were locked for a moment then she halted their carriage, opened the door, rushed down, and shook my hands. She placed her face against my right ear and whispered the most unexpected.

"From now on, you are Harriet and you will come with me."

"What?"

She dragged my arm into the carriage and she introduced me to her parents as one of her new best friends. I talked all about my life as a villager during the rest of the trip (still using the name Harriet) and after a few hours I have arrived at Eastbrooke Manor. They (and by they I mean their daughter Gianne) insisted me to live under their roof and so I did.

Today is the 10th day that I am in this manor and I have seen why Gianne needed me. She needs a companion on ordinary days since she usually spends them alone with no one with her and she's like a wrecking machine if no one comes to her. She is very lively tonight as she entertains guests and smiles on boys. A glimmer can be seen on her hazel eyes.

Contrary to what the other women are doing, I am just here sitting down on my table reading some math book I got from their library. It was a green hardbound book etched in gold letters. Books of the math and sciences here in the manor are rebounded like this. The green books are way different from what I usually read but it's great to deviate from the usual things sometimes.

"It's a great topic, isn't it?"

I turned my head and saw a carrot-haired guy leaning on the table looking at the page I was reading. He looked up at me and I swear that his sky blue eyes shined. I didn't know that he was there for the whole time. He has smooth pale skin and a very youthful and energetic aura radiates through him trying to penetrate me. His face was clean and his short hair was slicked towards the back leaving him a shiny wide forehead.

"Imaginary numbers," the guy continued, "who knew that there is something to describe a thing as intriguing as square roots of negative numbers? It's amazing!"

"I find it rather stupid for things like that to be called as such."

"Huh? Why so?"

"I mean just look at it," I pointed at the title of the topic. "Why 'imaginary'? It sounds so useless. It's like someone conjured a number on their heads and that number doesn't even exist. I'm pretty sure that it ain't the square root of a negative number because, well, that is surely something."

"If so then what would you like to call it?" The guy smirked. Amused. Oh God how I wanted to wipe that smirk off his face.

"Umm..."

Ugh. This guy really. I don't know why I was mad at him but I was, well, MAD AT HIM!

"Doctor Skyes!"

An old man limped fasttowards our direction with excitement and extends his hand that holds his walking stick. Because of this, he lost his footing and sense of balance. Mr. Ginger McCarrothead bolted up rushing towads him and caught him, the old man's face just a few inches to the floor. He helped him stand up and he patted the old man's chest clean.